


Once Upon A Dream

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe, Dreams, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Mates, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, One Shot, Short One Shot, Stiles Stilinski is Eighteen Years Old, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22472113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles first met Derek in a dream. He didn’t know then what it meant.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 21
Kudos: 319





	Once Upon A Dream

He stood in the middle of an opening, a grassy patch bathed in sunlight. Beads of dew gathered on the emerald blades, glistening like diamonds in the golden light. Delicate wildflowers were scattered among the grass, colouring the opening with bursts of purple, blue, yellow, orange, and white.

The space was enclosed by tall trees that towered over him; sweet pine trees, thick oak trees, and vibrant red maples. The thick foliage cast shadows across the forest floor, dancing as the breeze rustled the leaves. Birds were nested up in the branches, the sound of their chirping carrying through the air.

He drew in deep breaths, inhaling the sweet scent of the pine trees and the earthy petrichor.

Stiles turned about in circles, his dark eyes lit up with joy as he took in the sight.

He had had the same dream every night since he was seven years old, and yet, it never ceased to amaze him.

He’d been there before—to the reserve on the outskirts of town—but it wasn’t the same; in his dreams, it seemed so much more magical.

He heard a stick crack behind him, turning to see the young man. It was always him.

He was a few years older now than when they’d met, and maybe a year or two older than Stiles. His once-dark brown eyes had faded over time. Now they were aventurine with a touch of light brown around the centre and a darker ring of green encircling them. Soft whiskers cast a shadow across his jaw and his short dark hair was tousled, not carelessly or messy. He still wore the same blue-grey Henley and worn leather jacket that he always wore.

His boots were scuffed and covered with mud.

“Hey,” Derek said, a small smile turning up the corner of his lips.

“Hey,” Stiles replied, smiling in return.

For years, he had tried telling people about Derek, but no one believed him. They all thought he was just an imaginary friend or some sort of character Stiles had made up to help him deal with his mother’s sickness.

But Derek was real. He was sure of it.

He couldn’t explain how he knew—he had never met Derek in person—but he could _feel_ it.

They’d spend hours there; sitting beneath the shade of the trees, talking and laughing. They’d lie on the grass and watch the clouds drift, or Stiles would weave chains of daisies into crowns for Derek and the young man would smile as he put them on.

He enjoyed spending his time with Derek, lost in the soft tones of his husky voice, the tenderness of his touch, the bashful smiles he tried to hide, and the smell of leather, smoke, and earth.

Stiles remembered lying down beside Derek on the soft grass, staring into oblivion and just enjoying the comfort and security of knowing that Derek was there.

“Will you stay with me?” Stiles asked, turning his head slightly to look at Derek.

Derek looked back at him. “Always.”

But he didn’t.

One day, it all stopped.

Derek didn’t come.

Stiles waited in the clearing every night, the colours of the woods fading with his absence, until—finally—Stiles no longer dreamt of the woods. No matter how hard he willed himself to dream that dream, he never could. Eventually, he gave up trying.

He went about his days, forcing a smile and pretending like nothing had happened. But something was different.

“I know it’s around here somewhere,” Scott said, looking across the blanket of fallen leaves, the decaying skeletal husks crackling under their feet.

Stiles looked around at the forest floor. “I don’t think you’re going to find it.”

“Well I hope we do because those things are expensive.”

Stiles glanced up, something in his peripheral vision catching his eye. He turned to see a man standing among the twisted skeletons of the trees.

He tapped Scott’s shoulder, getting his attention.

Scott bolted upright, turning to look at the man.

He was dressed in a grey Henley and a worn leather jacket. HIs hands were buried in his pockets as he stalked towards them.

He had thick black hair and a soft beard that cast a shadow across his jaw. His wide-set eyes were pale, the colour of his irises shifted in the light; from hazel to green, to a shade of light blue. His face was set in a scowl but his eyes were clear, bright and focused. 

There was something about him that was familiar.

Stiles looked away, feeling his mind reeling as it reached for something—a distant memory; a fading dream.

He remembered the sweet smell of petrichor and pine trees, and of leather, smoke, and earth. He remembered the colours of wildflowers that stood out against the green grass.

He felt a shiver roll up his spine as the ghosts of tender touches brushed against his skin.

 _Derek_.

The name came to him before the face.

Soon after, the puzzle pieces fell into place; memories came rushing back to him.

“Derek,” he uttered to himself as he slowly turned back to the man, piecing things together. “Derek Hale.”

“What are you doing here?” Derek demanded, his eyes fixed on the two of them. “This is private property.”

 _He probably doesn’t remember_ , Stiles thought.

“I’m sorry, man,” Stiles replied. “We didn’t know.”

“We were just looking for something, but…” Scott ventured, his voice trailing off.

Derek raised his brow.

“Never mind,” Scott said. “We’ll just go.”

Derek pulled his hand out of his pocket, tossing something to Scott.

Scott caught it, blinking in surprise as he glanced down at his hand. He unfurled his fingers, looking down at the inhaler.

Derek shoved his hand back into the pocket of his jacket before turning and walking away, his boots rustling the blanket of dried, brown leaves with every step.

“Dude, it’s Derek Hale,” Stiles said, keeping his voice low as he watched Derek leave. “You know, he was a few years above us. His family died in that house fire a few years ago.”

“I wonder what he’s doing back,” Scott muttered, turning to walk back through the trees.

Stiles lingered for a moment, feeling his heart ache as he watched Derek walk away as his dark figure disappeared among the trees.

He let out a heavy sigh and turned, following Scott back across the reserve.

Stiles felt the cool autumn air bite at his cheeks as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket and wandered through the woods on the outskirts of town.

He breathed in the sweet scent of the damp earth, walking further and further into the reserve until he came to the small clearing.

It looked different in the fall. The grass was brown and dying, the wild flowers had wilted, and the trees were stripped of their leaves, covering the ground in a blanket of brown, yellow, red and gold. It was different, but still beautiful.

The breeze rolled through the space, rustling the leaves.

There was a crack as a stick broke underfoot.

Stiles turned, looking at the figure that steeped out from behind the trees.

The man stepped into the clearing, the filtered sunlight lighting his face. He wore a faded blue-grey sweater with thumb holes worn into the cuffs and a black leather jacket. His aventurine eyes looked at Stiles, the pale depths swirling with waves of emotions.

Derek.

“Stiles?” he asked, his voice strained with uncertainty.

Stiles nodded.

Derek’s shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh of relief.

Stiles felt a spark of anger ignite inside his chest.

“You lied to me,” Stiles said, choking on his words.

“What?”

“You told me you’d stay with me—you _promised_ me. And then you left,” Stiles shouted. “You left me alone!”

A flicker of pain darkened Derek’s eyes.

“I waited every night but you never came,” Stiles said, blinking back the tears that welled in his eyes.

“I wanted to,” Derek said quietly. “More than anything, I wanted to.”

“Then why didn’t you?!”

“I couldn’t,” Derek answered. “I know you only wanted to be friends, but the fact that we shared the same dreams means a lot more than you realise.”

“What are you talking about?”

“By now, you know about werewolves,” Derek started. “But there are a lot of things that Wikipedia articles don’t know.”

“Things such as…?” Stiles prompted.

“Such as mates,” Derek answered.

“Wait, that’s a thing?” Stiles asked, shocked.

“Yes.”

It took a second but Stiles seemed to piece things together.

“And I’m guessing mates find each other through shared dreams,” he surmised.

“Sort of.” Derek let out a measured breath. “Mates are bound together from the day they are born; call it fate, destiny, whatever. Sometimes the bond between mates is strong enough that you can share dreams.”

Stiles stayed quiet, processing what Derek had told him.

“You didn’t know what I was, you didn’t know anything about my world,” Derek continued, his voice quiet. “You were born into this without your knowledge. I didn’t want to force you into it; you deserve to have a normal life.”

“If this is fate or destiny, then it’s inescapable,” Stiles argued.

“That’s why I didn’t want you to know,” Derek replied. “I didn’t want you to feel bound to this as if you don’t have a choice.”

“We do have a choice,” Stiles said. “You chose to walk away. You chose to leave.”

A glistening tear trailed down Stiles’ cheek. He turned away, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe it away.

“It took every ounce of strength I had not to reach out to you,” Derek told him. “I wanted nothing more than to see you, to tell you, but I didn’t…”

Derek’s voice grew quiet as he looked down at his feet.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles let out a measured breath.

“You left because you wanted to give me a choice,” Stiles started slowly, his voice quiet at first. “But the truth is, I hate living without you… I don’t want to live without you.”

Derek looked up at him, shocked.

“So if I get to make a choice, then I choose to give this a go,” Stiles told him. “I want to try, even if we just start as friends and see where it goes from there. I don’t know what destiny or whatever has planned for us; I just know that I don’t want to live without you.”

Derek’s expression softened, his pale eyes sparkling as he looked at Stiles lovingly.

“What do you say?” Stiles asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

A hint of a smile turned up the corner of Derek’s mouth as he chuckled breathlessly.

“I don’t want to live without you either,” Derek admitted.

Stiles bit into his lip, bowing his head as he tried to hide his smile.

“One thing though,” Stiles said.

He straightened, drawing in a deep breath as he tried to calm his racing heart.

He stepped over to Derek’s side, looking up at the man through his lashes. His eyes flittered from the man’s entrancing eyes and his inviting lips.

“I want to see what it’s like,” Stiles whispered.

A quiet laugh escaped Derek’s lips as the corner of his mouth turned upwards in a playful smile.

He gently cupped Stiles’ cheek in the palm of his hands and brought their lips together.

The kiss was passionate, but seemed to weaken, growing more gentle and tender.

Stiles’ hands slid up the front of Derek’s sweater. He looped his arm around Derek’s neck, lacing his fingers through Derek’s soft hair and grabbing at the back of his jacket with his other hand.

Derek pulled back, resting his forehead against Stiles’ as they both tried to catch their breaths.

“You know what?” Stiles said quietly through broken breaths. “Screw being friends.”

He brought their lips together again, feeling Derek smile against his lips.

Derek tilted his head and deepened the kiss, pulling Stiles in closer.

Stiles melted into the warmth of Derek’s hold, the bitterly cold autumn winds unable to touch him.

He couldn’t describe how it felt—it was like two puzzle pieces fitting together; it just felt right.

The seasons changed as the months came and went, the bitter cold of winter fading as spring settled in.

The withered grass of the clearing sprung to life again and covered the space in a blanket of green, glistening droplets of morning dew clinging to the blades.

The golden sunlight warmed them. The breeze brought with it the sweet smell of the damp earth and the pine trees, making the shadows dance and sway as it gently rustled the foliage overhead.

Stiles sat at the foot of a tree, resting his back against the thick trunk. He’d picked a bunch of daisies and laid them out beside him, picking them up one by one as he wove their stems into a chain.

Derek lay beside him, holding a book up and resting his head in Stiles’ lap as he read.

They enjoyed the simple moments, the times when it could just be the two of them.

After a while, Derek set his book down, tilting his head back to look up at Stiles.

Stiles froze, looking down at Derek as he smiled sheepishly.

Derek’s brow furrowed as he looked at his boyfriend suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” he asked, pushing himself upright and turning to look at Stiles.

Stiles’ smile broadened and a glint of mischief lit his eyes as he tried to hide the chain of daisies without crushing the delicate flowers.

“No,” Derek said, feigning protest. “No more flower crowns.”

“Yes, more flower crowns,” Stiles argued.

He wove the ends together and laid the crown atop Derek’s head, the frail white daisies standing out vibrantly against the man’s dark hair.

Derek smiled softly, bowing his head slightly.

He reached forward, prying a daisy from Stiles’ hand.

He reached out and gently tucked it behind Stiles’ ear, brushing a strand of hair aside as he did.

The backs of his fingers brushed against Stiles’ mole-speckled cheek. His hazel eyes sparkled as he looked at Stiles lovingly, a soft smile playing across his lips.

Stiles smiled back.

Derek leant in, smiling as he kissed him tenderly.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


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